“It’ll be good,” Jake says. “We haven’t all been together like this in forever.”

“Minus Heidi,” Lucy says.

There’s no awkwardness at her statement. Not anymore. Riley and Heidi seem to have formed a weird only-a-girl-would-understand mutual respect for each other. We’ve even hung out as a group. They don’t say a lot to each other, but they don’t claw each other’s eyes out either. Granted, if it ever got to that, I’d put my money on Riley. Every single time.

I tune them out as the girls go back to talking books, the guys go back to talking about Cameron’s inability to score a free throw and I go back to looking at the girl I love, watching her smile and join in on both conversations.

She faces me, her smile still in place. “You okay?”

I nod.

Then, for some random reason, I shout, “Yahoo!” Weird, I know. But Dad used to say it and… dammit, I guess I am Grandpa Banks.

“What the hell was that?” Riley says through a fit of laughter.

“Did you just Yahoo?” Jake asks.

Next to me, Cameron’s holding a hand to his chest like I just scared the shit out of him.

I laugh with them. Then loudly exclaim, “It’s a beautiful day, boys!”

Now they’re all looking at me like I’m crazy. I am. Riley—she bakes me crazy. Okay. That didn’t have the same effect as bacon but whatever.

Down on the court, I see two teenage boys eying me like my friends are. “What?” I yell. “It is a beautiful day! The sun’s out… everyone’s on break. I got a beautiful girl in my arms.”

“Well,” one of the kids says. “You do have a beautiful girl.”

“Watch your fucking mouth,” I shout, getting up to go to him.

Riley grabs onto my neck with one hand, the other covering my mouth. “He’s sorry,” she tells them, before looking back at me, a laugh bubbling out of her. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m happy,” I tell her.

“You’re crazy,” she retorts.

“You bake me crazy.” Nope. Still not the same effect. Maybe this is why I kept silent for so long.

We leave the guys at the park and I drive Riley to work. She’s on the afternoon shift for now, but she’ll be taking over the nine to five next week. Most days, I drive her there and pick her up because even though she has her own car, she prefers I drive. Reminds her of how dreams can become a reality. I don’t mind. But I do get lonely. Some days I just go over to Dad’s house and mess around with Eric. Other days I work on our house. It’s old, but the bones are good, and with enough work we can get it to where we want. That’s what I’m doing—replacing the air-conditioning unit—when I get an unexpected phone call.

Dr. Garvis is on the other end, his tone a mixture of hopefulness and something else I can’t quite decipher. He tells me he’d like to fast forward my appointment to tomorrow and that something has changed with his scheduling. I agree, even though I know Riley can’t get the day off and she likes to go with me to all my check ups. He ends the conversation by saying, “Hopefully your shoulder’s still where it was and I can sign off on the paperwork sooner rather than later.”

I spend the next couple hours writing a list of all the work the house needs and head over to Dad’s. I tell him and Eric about the phone call, ignoring their identical solemn looks, and get Eric to make copies of the list on his printer. I ask them for help to get the work done in case I can’t get to it all before I leave, and then I give them spare keys—to the house and the cars. I give them the information to my bank accounts to forward on to Riley because if it happens sooner than I want, I don’t want to waste our time together going over these petty details while she whines about not needing it until I tell her to shut up. Then I visit Holly next door. I sit with her and have a quiet meal and I tell her what I know. I ask that she not tell Riley yet, that I want to be the one to do it, and then I tell her that my dad and Eric have spare keys in case she, too, ever needs anything. I don’t know why I tell her that. I don’t really know why I do any of it. Then I go back home and get started on the list. I finish the air conditioner, fix the jammed garage door and clear out the gutters. And then I shower, grab my keys, and put on a mask so I’m ready to face Riley with the plans of keeping the appointment to myself. She doesn’t need to know yet. She’ll just worry—and the fact that she won’t be there will make it worse. I’ll tell her when I know for sure what the plan is. If there even is a plan.

“She’s out back,” Edna, the shelter receptionist, tells me.

I go behind the desk, like I’d done many times before, and make my way through the aisles of cages and crying animals until I see Riley squatting in front of a cage, patting a tiny dog so ugly I swear I would’ve mistaken it for a giant rat.

“Ry,” I call out, walking toward her. “What’s going on? I’ve been waiting in the car for fifteen minutes.”

She looks up, her eyes glassy. “He always cries when I leave. I hate it,” she mumbles, looking back at the dog.

“They’re sad animals,” I remind her. “They cry.”

“Not like this one,” she says. “He’s all scared and alone and he has no-one.” She motions for me to squat down next to her. “Look at him, Dylan.”

I roll my eyes and sigh at the same time. Then I look at the dog. He looks like every other homeless dog. Nothing but skin and bones and spots of fur. His head rests on his front legs, the fur around his eyes wet from all the crying he’s done. “He’s… cute,” I lie. “I’m sure someone will come in and take him. Let’s go. I’ve got stuff to do at the house.”

“Okay,” she says, reluctantly getting up. The dog whimpers as soon as her hand leaves him. “See, baby?”

“Riley.”

“Bye, puppy,” she says, followed by a pout.

She grabs her stuff and starts to leave, looking back at the dog every time it lets out a whimper.

I grasp her shoulders. “Come on, we have to go.”

She’s silent on the way home.

She’s still silent when we have my second meal for the night.

She stays silent as we get into bed, her beautiful pout still in place.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

“I can’t stop thinking about him.”

“What’s his name? I’ll kick his ass.”

She fakes a laugh and settles her head on my chest. “It’s sad, that’s all. I know he’s not going to get picked up and they’ll have to put him down. I just hate that for him—like the world’s already given up on him, you know?”

“So what do you want to do about it?”

She looks up quickly, then drops her gaze. “There’s nothing we can do.” She pauses a beat. “Is there?”

“Riley, we can’t have a dog. Not now. I’m going soon—or whenever…” I recover quickly. “And we’d need to train him. We don’t have time for that right now. I’m trying to get the house dealt with and you’re still redecorating or whatever and you won’t be home so I’ll have to deal with him—”